To See Things in the Seed
by Kedd
Summary: Every one has their quirks. But only some people can see past them. S/J.


**Title:** To See Things in the Seed  
**Author:** Kedd  
**Summary:** Every one has their quirks. But only some people can see past them. S/J.  
**Pairing:** S/J  
**Rating:** PG

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**"To see things in the seed, that is genius."**  
**- Lao Tzu**

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He'd swung into the driveway of their house, pleased and relieved to see Sam's car parked safely there. She was only supposed to have been on base for a regular duty shift, but he knew better than anyone how quickly a regular duty shift at Stargate Command could become irregular. And there was the added bonus that she had left early enough for them to have a leisurely dinner, together, at something approaching a normal dinner-time. Between their work schedules and frequently different locations, that was a rarity. Whistling as he grabbed the groceries out of the back, Jack maneuvered his way into the house, opening doors one-handed, and finally reaching the kitchen. He glanced around, hoping that Sam would have heard his entry and offer to help put the groceries away, but she was suspiciously absent. He sighed to himself before putting the beer in the fridge and the ice cream in the freezer. A quick peek in the other bags didn't reveal anything that would be spoiled if he went to find Sam, so he moved them to one side of the counter before heading out of the kitchen.

He headed upstairs quickly, thinking that maybe she'd decided to take a nap, but their bedroom was devoid of any life. He frowned when he heard the noise coming in through the window, it sounded like water running. A quick glance revealed a figure busily - watering the garden? Despite the fact they'd been living together, as best they could, for over a year now their house was still a work in progress. Combining their individual sets of furniture, belongings, and tastes had been a gradual process, and with the exception of making sure that the lawn was trimmed and weed-free their outdoor maintenance had been next to none. Apparently, that had changed. Heading back downstairs, Jack went out the back door to see what Carter had gotten up to in his absence.

The sight that met his eyes astounded him. The world's foremost expert on the Stargate, one of the smartest people he knew (and usually one of the most dignified), was both wet and filthy. Sam had somehow managed to get herself covered in mud from at least half-way up her back down to her feet, which were currently buried ankle-deep in a newly-formed mud-hole. Her hair was damp, sitting closer to her head than usual, and when she turned around (having heard his approach, and thankfully lowering the hose before she got him wet too), he was able to see that her front was equally mud-splattered. Her arms were plastered up to her elbows, evidence, no doubt, of her planting efforts. He found himself mesmerized by the way her shirt clung to her curves and absurdly delighted when he noticed her toes peeking through the mud, a sign that she had decided to remove her shoes at some point earlier in her gardening efforts. Her surprised cry of his name returned his attention to her face, which she must have rubbed with one of her hands at some point, because there was a smudge of dirt across her cheekbone which he couldn't resist. He stepped closer to her, greeting her even as he raised his hand to gently rub the dirt away with his thumb.

"Hey," he said, smiling gently at her, even as he rubbed his thumb against his finger to remove some of the mud-flakes. He gestured absently around them with his other hand, "What's all this?"

He was charmed when Carter blushed, the colour highlighting her cheekbones, as she directed her gaze at the ground. She gave a half-hearted shrug, before raising her eyes to resolutely meet his gaze. "I decided to put a garden in."

"I can see that," he quipped. She actually had done a pretty fair job, he thought as he surveyed the ground, not that he was any expert on the gardening scene, but it looked well laid out at any rate, colours balanced and whatnot. "Felt like you needed some plants to talk to when I'm not here?"

"Jack!"

He didn't even try to avoid the gentle slap that accompanied her admonishing cry, instead turning back to face her with a cheeky smirk on his face. "What? You do still talk to your plants right?" His smile softened as he saw the glare on her face, and he reached to gather her into his arms, mud and all. It was a sign of her annoyance that she didn't protest as her muddy clothes started to dirty his. He wrapped his arms around her more fully, ignoring the crossed arms which jutted into his chest, and bent his head towards the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of fresh earth, sweat, and Carter. He planted a soft kiss just behind her ear, before whispering, "They'd get pretty bored if all they had to listen to was me."

He felt her body relax, her arms dropping to wrap around his waist even as a soft huff of laughter caressed his neck. He smirked, knowing he'd been forgiven, and closed his eyes, taking the opportunity to savour the feel of Sam in his arms, her warm curves pressed against him, the sun warming his back as they stood together in the mud. He felt her move slightly, her nose brushing against the curve of his ear.

"How'd you even remember that, Jack?" She pulled back slightly, her blue eyes meeting his questioningly. "Wasn't that the mission with the UAV that destroyed the plant symbiosis between –"

He cut her off with a fond grin, "The funny naked white guys? Yeah, that's the one."

Her eyes took on that all-too-familiar distant look she got when she was calculating something. She abruptly looked back up at him surprised. "That mission was over a decade ago!"

He shrugged helplessly. What could he say? He'd always remembered lots of things about Carter he wasn't supposed to, as her CO. She liked all chocolate, for instance, but preferred the really dark, nearly bitter kind. Unless she was eating chocolate covered pretzels, which had to be coated in white chocolate (something about balancing out the salt content better). She was a terrible cook and a really good baker, but would never make chocolate chip cookies because they reminded her of her mother's death. Her favourite flavour of Jello was Blue Raspberry, allegedly because it tasted better, but she'd confessed once that she really just enjoyed the colour. He'd thought it was because the colour matched her eyes but, despite the amount of tequila she'd had, Sam had refused to comment on his accusation, distracting him with trivia. (Did he know, she'd asked, that there was no naturally occurring food that was blue in colour? She'd dissolved in giggles when he'd said she'd give blueberries worldwide a complex, and he'd let the topic drop.) She took her coffee black, her milk skim, her soda diet, and her wine white. She had a fondness for rock that went well with her motorcycle and black leather, but had started out as a crush on Bon Jovi in her teens. She preferred blue ink to black, and markers to chalk (although she always used black markers on her white boards), and had the bad habit of jotting equations down on the nearest blank surface whenever a thought struck her. She'd written on him more than once, her fingers absent-mindedly tracing shapes against his skin.

He blinked and smiled at her fondly. "Your foibles amuse me, Carter. I can't help but remember them."

She stared up at him for a moment, temporarily lost for words. "My _foibles_?" she finally managed to get out, eyes gone wide as she looked up at him.

He shrugged. "You know, your little quirks." He responded to her raised eyebrow by circling his hand behind her back. "Like arranging your books by genre, and then alphabetically by the author's last name." He smirked. "I think it's cute."

She looked appalled. "_Cute_?"

He dropped a casual kiss on her forehead, ignoring the gritty sensation on his lips from some dirt that must have landed there. "Yeah. Cute." He leaned back slightly, making sure he still had her arms pinned. "Why do you say that like it's a bad thing?"

Sam glanced up at him, a little crease forming between her eyebrows. "I guess . . . I don't know. I've just never been called 'cute' before." She paused. "At least, not since I was older than five."

Jack was startled. "Seriously?"

She ducked her head into his shoulder, but he could see the back of her neck turning red. "Well, I've been called other things."

"Like what?" he asked, "Beautiful? Stunning?"

She gave him a mild whack with one of her hands. "Hardly. More like, neurotic and weird and anal-retentive."

He snorted.

She glared.

"Well, Sam, you have to admit, you can be those things too." He tightened his arms around her as he felt her muscles tense. "But luckily for you, I think it's cute." He leaned his head down to nuzzle where her neck met her shoulder, pushing some damp strands of hair out of his way with his nose. His voice was deeper as he whispered for only her to hear, "And you are both stunning and beautiful."

He felt a small puff of air caress his neck as she gave a huff, but the way her pulse jumped and how her hands began to stroke his back let him know he'd been forgiven. So he decided to push his advantage while he could, and began tugging her inside. The garden could wait - by this point, they both needed a shower, and Jack didn't see any reason why it shouldn't be together.

"C'mon," he said, tugging Sam by her hand towards the back door. "I'll wash your back, if you'll do mine." And he watched as a grin spread across her face, her eyes lighting up and her hair glinting with the rays of the sun and he didn't know how anybody could think of Sam Carter as anything less than amazing, foibles and all.

As he turned to shut the door behind them, Jack cast one last glance out over the mostly-completed garden. "Don't worry guys," he said to the nearby hostas, laid out in rows based on increasing amounts of variegation, "She'll be back."


End file.
